The rain didn't just fall; it wept. Black, viscous droplets streaked against the stone walls of the Academy, smelling of burnt ozone and ancient decay. I stood by my window, watching the gargoyles swallow the oily water, their stone eyes seemingly tracking my every move. The photograph of "Subject No. 1" was still clutched in my hand, the edges crinkling under the pressure of my grip. My mother—if she even was that—had never mentioned a twin, never mentioned a predecessor. She had only mentioned the Wasting as a burden we had to carry. A lie. Everything was a beautifully constructed lie.
Midnight was approaching, and the Clocktower loomed in the distance like a jagged finger pointing at a judgmental sky. I slipped out of my room, my heart a frantic bird trapped in a cage of ribs. The hallways were silent, save for the rhythmic pulsing of the Ether-stone walls. Usually, the Academy was alive with the hum of protective wards, but tonight, the air felt thin and brittle. Every step I took left a trail of dead light; the glowing moss on the walls withered as I passed, and the floating lanterns drifted to the floor, their flames extinguished by my mere proximity. I was a walking graveyard.
Reaching the Clocktower required crossing the forbidden South Garden, a place where the plants were infused with "Liquid Mana" to grow into sentient sculptures. As I stepped onto the grass, the vibrant flowers turned to ash at my feet. I felt a pang of guilt, a familiar companion, but beneath it was a new, darker sensation: a sense of power. The hunger in my marrow wasn't just consuming; it was waking up. It didn't want to just eat; it wanted to hunt.
"You're late," a voice drifted from the shadows of the tower's base. Aiden was leaning against the heavy oak doors, his obsidian pendant glowing with a faint, rhythmic violet light. He looked remarkably calm for someone who was technically aiding a fugitive of the Arcanum. "I had to make sure Malakai's lapdogs weren't following me," I snapped, my voice trembling more than I liked. He straightened up, his eyes scanning the darkness behind me. "They aren't. They're too busy trying to figure out why the Great Wall is bleeding. Come. We don't have much time before the midnight bells trigger the sensory sweep."
He pushed open the doors, revealing a spiral staircase that seemed to disappear into the clouds. We climbed in silence, the only sound the scraping of my boots and the heavy thud of my heart. When we finally reached the belfry, the wind tore at my hair, smelling of the battlefield miles away. The view was terrifying. Beyond the city walls, the horizon was a jagged line of grey fire. The warbeasts weren't just attacking; they were terraforming. Where they stepped, the vibrant world turned into the same ashen void that followed me.
"Look at them," Aiden whispered, standing dangerously close to the edge. "They aren't monsters, Rowen. They are your brothers. Your sisters. The failed attempts before Malakai finally perfected the formula in you." I felt the world tilt. I reached for the stone railing to steady myself, but the stone crumbled into dust under my touch. "What are you talking about? I was born in Eden. I have a family." Aiden turned to me, his expression unreadable, a mixture of pity and something that looked horribly like devotion. "You were 'planted' in Eden. Your 'mother' was a mid-level researcher who couldn't have children of her own. She was given a Subject to raise in a low-mana environment to see if the Anomaly could be stabilized. You weren't a daughter; you were a long-term clinical trial."
The air left my lungs. The memory of my mother's trembling hand, her fear of touching me—it wasn't grief for my illness. It was the fear of a lab assistant for a dangerous specimen. I looked at the photograph again, the girl who looked exactly like me. "And her? Subject No. 1?" Aiden took a step toward me, the violet glow of his pendant intensifying. "She was the prototype. She reached the 'Threshold' too early. When her hunger wasn't fed, she didn't just drain the magic around her; she inverted it. She became the first of the Crushers. That thing at the gate? That's what happens when the Anomaly is ignored. But you... you are the first one who can choose."
He reached out, and this time I didn't flinch. When our skin met, that intoxicating surge of heat returned, but it was different now. I could feel his pulse, but I could also feel his source. Aiden wasn't just a student; he was a battery. His mana was being funneled into me, but it wasn't disappearing. It was being refined. "Who are you, Aiden?" I whispered, my vision swimming in gold. "I'm the Stabilizer," he said, his voice dropping to a low, melodic hum. "I was built to be your anchor. Without me, you'll become like her. With me, you can rewrite the laws of this world. We can erase the Arcanum and build something where no one has to fear the dark."
His face was inches from mine, and for a moment, the terror was eclipsed by a desperate, aching need to be understood. He leaned in, his lips hovering over mine, and I felt the gravity of him pulling me in. It was the first time in my life I didn't feel like a monster. But as our lips touched, a jagged bolt of lightning—pure, white Arcanum energy—slammed into the belfry, shattering the wooden rafters.
"Step away from the specimen, Aiden!" Professor Malakai's voice boomed, amplified by a silver staff that hummed with enough power to level a mountain. He was hovering in the air, supported by a platform of solid light, flanked by six "Inquisitors" in masks that dripped with enchantments. "You were supposed to monitor her, not contaminate her with your own ambitions."
Aiden didn't let go of my hand. He stepped in front of me, his pendant flaring so bright it blinded me. "She's not a specimen, Malakai! She's the end of your tyranny!" Malakai laughed, a sound like dry bones rattling in a box. "She is a weapon that is currently malfunctioning. If you won't step aside, we will simply harvest the marrow and start again. Subject No. 3 is already in the vats."
Subject No. 3. The words hit me harder than the lightning. I wasn't the last. I was just a version. A wave of fury, cold and absolute, washed over me. The Wasting inside me didn't feel like hunger anymore; it felt like a command. I stepped out from behind Aiden, my hair whipping in the gale. I felt the mana in the air—the energy Malakai was using to hover, the enchantments on the Inquisitors' masks, the power in the silver staff. It was all so... loud. I wanted it to be quiet.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Instead, a shockwave of absolute silence radiated from my body. The platform of light beneath Malakai vanished. The Inquisitors plummeted toward the courtyard like stones. The silver staff turned to lead, then to dust. Malakai screamed as he fell, but the sound was cut short as the very air around the tower became a vacuum of energy.
Aiden watched me with an expression of pure, unadulterated awe. "Rowen... stop. You're draining the entire district!" I couldn't stop. It felt too good. For the first time, I wasn't the one being eaten. I was the one doing the eating. I could feel the life force of the Academy, the centuries of stored magic in the library, the hidden vaults, the students' sleeping dreams—it was all rushing into me.
Then, the pain hit. It was a white-hot needle driven into the center of my brain. My reflection—or the lack of it—seemed to flicker in the air. I saw images of the girl in the photo, screaming as her skin turned to grey scales, her fingers elongating into claws. I was reaching the Threshold.
Aiden grabbed both of my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. "Rowen, look at me! Give it to me! Channel it into the pendant!" He pressed the obsidian stone against my chest. The heat was unbearable, but as the stolen energy flowed into the stone, the violet light turned a deep, blood-red. The tower groaned, the ancient stones shifting under the sudden loss of the magical mortar that held them together.
We collapsed onto the floor as the silence finally settled. The black rain had stopped, replaced by a fine, grey ash that covered everything. Below us, the Academy was in ruins. Not destroyed by fire or force, but simply... erased. The lights were out. The wards were gone. The students were stumbling into the courtyard, their magic temporarily stripped away.
Aiden was breathing hard, his face pale and sweat-beaded. He looked down at the pendant, which was now pulsing with a dark, terrifying rhythm. "We have to go," he whispered, helping me to my feet. "The Inquisitors will recover. And Malakai... he doesn't die that easily."
I looked at my hands. They were no longer trembling. The pale, sickly hue was gone, replaced by a strange, translucent glow. "Where are we going?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"To the Wall," Aiden said, his eyes meeting mine with a terrifying intensity. "If you want to know who you really are, you have to meet the sister who survived."
As we descended the crumbling stairs, I caught a glimpse of myself in a shard of broken glass. I had a reflection now. But it wasn't me. In the glass, a girl with grey eyes and a crown of thorns smiled back at me. And in her hand, she held the world, and she was crushing it.